


A Second Chance

by ElizabethAnnPratt



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comics 2019), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Spuffy - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Spuffy, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23663536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethAnnPratt/pseuds/ElizabethAnnPratt
Summary: Spike is suddenly warped back into Sunnydale with his soul in tact and faced with repeating meeting Buffy Summers for the first time all over again. Maybe this time he'll do things right. And maybe he can protect her from her horrible past...future? Sod it all, he was gonna make sure the girl is happy this time around.
Relationships: Cordelia Chase/Xander Harris, Daniel "Oz" Osbourne/Willow Rosenberg, Jenny Calendar/Rupert Giles, Spike/Buffy Summers, Tara Maclay/Willow Rosenberg, Xander Harris/Anya Jenkins
Comments: 17
Kudos: 121





	1. Prologue

The sky was beginning to lighten into a dark purple, and with it the horizon became outlined in orange. The sun would be up in only a few short moments. Spike sat and watched the sunrise atop an old R.V., the remnants of Sunnydale lie in a crater just behind him. It seemed fitting it should end here. That he would burn here just as he had nearly two-hundred years ago. Only this time, there would be no resurrection. No popping up in Angel's office in the heart of L.A.

There would be no more fighting or reunions. There was no one left to reunite with. Angel had been staked somewhere around one-hundred and fifty years ago when his soul somehow miraculously escaped him again. The Scoobies, Dawn and little Joyce had long since passed away from old age or natural causes. And the Slayer, bleeding hell, his Slayer, had died at the ripe old age of one-hundred and three. And she only looked to be around eighty years old. He had always wondered that if they had known she would live so long and age so slowly, would she have stayed with him a little longer? Properly stayed with him, anyway, and not just continue to sleep with him; Which they kept up until she had been in her sixties. Turns out that the two of them weren't so good at breaking up. They seemed to have a difficult time keeping their hands off of one another after being in the same room for so long. Especially after a night of working an intense police case. She'd show up to his apartment and demand affection with her body, more than she ever had with her words. Christ, he missed her.

No, there was no one left but him. No one he considered family. And he filled the time with traveling, meeting and assisting new slayers. He enjoyed the scenery, the night life, and, on occasion, a woman or two. But life was growing monotonous. His true passions were long gone and he'd gotten his fill of experience. So, here he sat, waiting for the fire to consume him. The poet in him forcing him to see his end where it all truly began. Where he'd burned before. And as the sun rose above the desert horizon, he felt heat scorch his skin. His innards began to boil and he felt himself gasping for unneeded breath. The sky was a beautiful array of pink and orange, dotted with little puffy, yellow clouds. It almost made the pain bearable. As the flames ignited across his exposed flesh, the only thought that crossed his mind was the hope that he'd be permitted to see Buffy again. Just once more, at least. Before they left him to burn where he really belonged. The pain amplified, his nerve endings pounding and convulsing. But this wasn't unfamiliar. He'd been through this before.

_'It'll all be over soon. It'll all be over soon. It'll all be over soon.'_

He repeated the mantra until all feeling was gone and the sky was suddenly white. Everything fell silent, for only a moment. Then, there was a pleasant ringing.

"What do we do with this one?"

"It has done unspeakable evil. We send it to the pit."

"But it has made amends, don't you think? It has done remarkable good for half, if not more, of its lifespan. And it has a soul. A pure soul."

"That does not undo the wrong it has committed. But it does create a dilemma. Perhaps we should let the others decide."

"Or perhaps...we could give it another chance."

"Explain this."

"Send it back. See what decisions it makes this time. See if this soul effects its dichotomy."

"I understand. This may work. Very well. You have one more chance, vampire. We will see you again, someday."

All spike could hear were beautiful bells, or maybe they were chimes. All he could see was white. It felt oddly warm and peaceful. Then he was hit with the abrupt sensation of dropping, and he was falling. And suddenly it was loud. And dark. And he was surrounded by voices. Was that music? And...the smell of beer?


	2. Chapter One: The Dance Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike encounters a sense of Deja Vu.

It was suffocatingly hot. At first, everything was blurry. But he could feel himself standing upright, weighed down by several layers of clothing and undoubtedly his duster. He could make out a blurry form of a person - human - as they brushed passed him, bumping his shoulder. Overwhelmed, he glanced around from side to side, letting his vision come into focus better. People surrounded him, dancing and drinking. _'A club, then.'_ Then he caught sight of the stage to the right of him; Now he understood why this all felt familiar. He'd been here many times before. And judging by the vague sense of deja vu spurred on by the music playing and the smell of stale alcohol, sweat and fried food, he'd been in this exact moment before. This was the Bronze. He was right back in Sunnyhell, he had to be. The thrum of bodies moving in unison he had grown accustomed to over the years, the giggles from girls who certainly shouldn't be old enough to be drinking....and the Slayer, sitting right in front of him.

How the bloody hell had he not noticed before now. She was right there. And now that he'd seen her he recognized the humming in his body, warning him of her presence. Was he dreaming? She sat in a little white halter top, her short, golden hair hung in layers framing her face. She looked so young. Beside her, some girl with long red hair sat, talking animatedly. _'Oh, bleeding Hell. Red.'_ That was Willow. He didn't remember her hair ever being that long. And if the two of them were here, then sure enough Harris would -

"Guys, I'm all alone out there. Someone's gotta dance with me." _'Ah. There he is. And he still has two eyes.'_

"Well, we are studying." _'Oh, liven up, Red.'_

"Come on, one dance. You've been studying for like twelve minutes.

"No wonder my brain's fried." Christ, he'd missed her voice. He watched as she grinned and Harris assisted in dragging Willow out of her chair and onto the dance floor. As he watched her sway her hips to the beat, it all came flooding back to him. He remembered this moment now; This was originally his first encounter with the Slayer. He had just gotten into town and come here to scope her out on behalf of the Anointed One. Which means he still had that little pest to get rid of whenever he got back to the factory. And he'd have to figure out what to do about Drusilla. He took an unnecessary breath as the memories came rushing back, making his head spin. _'Haven't thought about Dru in ages.'_ This was all so strange. Was it all a dream? Was he just stuck in purgatory reliving his memories before he was tossed into Hell? No sense in wasting his time on it all now. Not when the Slayer was right here with him. He'd take his chance while he had it. He just needed to lure her out the back exit just as he'd done before.

Walking over to the idiot lackey he'd brought with him, he leaned over and muttered, "Go get something to eat." He slowly made his way over to a couple of bystanders once he made sure that the minion had made his way out of the back exit. "Where's the phone, I need to call the police. There's some big guy out there trying to bite someone!" He yelled, ensuring he was loud enough that Buffy would catch every word. He watched in amusement as she sprang into action, sprinting towards the door. Waiting just enough time that she wouldn't notice him following her out, he ducked out the door and stood in the shadows, just out of her view as she pummeled the offending vamp.

"Get her out of here!" She called to Red and the Whelp as they ushered the victim away and back towards the door. "And a stake" - punch - "would be nice!" She plowed another punch into the demon, sending him backwards. Spike watched from a few feet away as they threw one another around. He never tired of watching the Slayer fight. She was a bloody Goddess, she was.

"Spike, give me hand!" The idiot beckoned. As Harris arrived and tossed Buffy her weapon, the platinum blonde smirked, stepping out and kicking the lackey in the back, sending him sailing into the Slayer's stake.

"Nice work, love." He clapped once the dust settled.

"Who are you?"

"Just another member of your fan club." She eyed him for a brief moment before responding.

"I think you're confused. Vampires are usually members of the "We Hate Buffy" club." She narrowed her eyes and flipped her hair out of her face, tilting her chin up at him in defiance. He chuckled. It was a gesture she did often when she thought she had a good quip.

"Normally, yeah. Why don't we head back inside, put your pointy stick away and discuss it over a dance. Surrounded by other people. Where I can remain all undusty like." The blonde vampire purred, stepping closer to her. She took a step back, raising her stake. He raised his hands in surrender. "Now, now, pet. I'm not gonna go all fangy on you. Swear it. Would just like a chance to talk, yeah? Your little friends can stick around, if it makes you more comfortable." He stuck his hand out and gestured towards the door. Red exchanged a nervous glance with the Whelp as Buffy nodded for Spike to proceed them into the club.

"I'll give you a few minutes to explain who you are and what you want from me." She whispered.

"All I ask." He chuckled. It was just then that he realized just how fitting the song playing was to his situation. Some black haired, goth chit was singing a grungy cover of some Sarah McLachlan song as he held his hand out to the Slayer, quirking an eyebrow. She took it and he pulled her against him, locking both arms around her slender waist and swaying to the rhythm. She blinked in surprise, pressing her palms against his chest to steady herself. In the background, the singer's voice chimed in a low, slow pitch. Spike found himself staring into the blonde's hazel-green eyes, cocking his head to the side in awe as he lost himself in her scent and the pounding of her heartbeat.

"You come out at night  
That's when the energy comes  
And the dark side's light  
And the vampires roam  
You strut your rasta wear  
And your suicide poem  
And a cross from a faith that died  
Before Jesus came

You're building a mystery."

"So, who are you?" The Slayer brought him back from his reverie and he snickered against her temple.

"Spike." His lips brushed against her ear and he felt her shudder in his arms. "You could probably look me up in all of your little Watcher's books. Find me under 'William the Bloody' or the 'Slayer of Slayers.'" He mumbled, feeling her stiffen. She pulled back, her eyes blazing. "Relax, ducks. All in the past. Killed a couple of slayers back in the day, but I've reformed. Not so interested in that side of the fight anymore."

"And I should believe you, why?" He smirked.

"You shouldn't. Not yet. I'd hope you're smart enough not to, anyway." She leaned away from him and he loosened his grip on her waist, but still kept his hands on her hips.

"What do you want from me?" The Slayer glared, standing still in his grasp.

"Not you, pet," he lied, "need your big, broody boyfriend. Maybe you can pass a message on to him for me?" He may as well kill two birds with one stone. He could get to know Buffy, get her at least semi-comfortable with him, and also try to convince Peaches to heal Dru. That way, he could try to force her to leave Sunnydale and he wouldn't have to stick around to take care of her or worry over her health. He only hoped she'd cooperate and not try to fight him or the Slayer on it.

"My boyfriend?"

"Yeah. Tall, dark and forehead. You may know him as Angel?" He quipped. Buffy ducked her head, refusing to meet his eyes.

"He's, uh, not exactly my boyfriend. What do you want from him?"

"Could just use a favor for an old family member. He's the only one who can help with the matter."

"And why should I, or Angel, help you?" She bit out. "Like I said, I don't trust you. And you've even agreed I shouldn't."

"I said you shouldn't _yet._ Maybe once you get to know me a little better, you'll sing a different tune." Speaking of singing, the song was still playing in the background, and Spike found himself entranced with the words.

"You're so beautiful

With an edge and charm  
But so careful  
When I'm in your arms

'Cause you're working  
Building a mystery  
Holding on and holding it in  
Yeah, you're working  
Building a mystery  
And choosing so carefully."

He used his fingertips on her lower back to coax her back against his chest, which she followed hesitantly. Once he had her close again he slid his arms back around her waist and continued to sway. She was still staring at him, calculating how she should respond.

"If I pass your message onto Angel, I have to be included. Whatever you want from him, I need to know." She chastised. He nodded once.

"Fine. Not like it's some evil plan you need to foil, Slayer. Just a bit o' business between...friends." The word was almost enough to make him gag. He would never really consider Angel a friend and it left a bad taste in his mouth. Maybe he could do something to make Peaches disappear a little earlier this time around. Skip all of the Angelus bullshit and save the Slayer some angst.

"Consider yourself lucky. I don't normally make deals with vamps." She sassed. Oh, this might be easier than he thought.

"Well, pet, I'd like to think I'm one of a kind, anyway. Unless you know of any other vamp who would willingly go and fetch themselves a soul." The blonde froze in his arms, her eyes going wide.

"I know of one other." She muttered under her breath, her jade eyes searching his.

"I said _'willingly,'_ love. Peaches' soul was forcefully shoved up his bloody arse as a punishment." Spike growled. "And while we're on the subject, that better be the only damn time I ever hear you compare me to that git, got it?" She was staring wide-eyed, her hands squeezing his biceps, and for a moment he worried she would bruise the leather on his jacket.

"I...didn't really know that." He snorted.

"Oh, yeah. So he probably didn't mention the little loophole that makes his soul go poof then, did he?" He leaned in close to her face, "If the pathetic sod ever feels even a brief moment of true happiness, he goes back to being a vicious, soulless monster. And believe me when I say, you never wanna meet that side of him. Not if you value your friends, family and household pets." The blonde vamp smirked.

"One moment of happiness? That's...how do you know this?" The poor chit looked lost.

"Angelus and I go way back. Unfortunately. Whole lotta memories I'd love to erase."

"Poor Angel. He can never experience true happiness. But, wait! What does that even mean?"

"Means whatever makes the git's wildest dreams come true will be his bloody undoing. No riding off into the sunset with his true love," he hissed, "no breakfast in bed, or cuddly movie nights surrounded by friends and family." He watched as Buffy's lips turned downward and she closed her eyes in pain.

"You're trying to tell me that our relationship could possibly end up with Angel going all soulless and monster-movie levels of crazy?" She frowned.

"No _'possibly'_ about it. I'm telling you to be careful, Slayer. Would hate for you to have to resort to staking the big Poof just because you both get a little too attached. Maybe have a backup plan, just in case?" He ducked his head to meet her eyes. Then, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, he whispered, "So, do we have a deal, love?" He couldn't help the feral grin that wrenched it's way onto his face when she looked up and slowly nodded her affirmation. He knew he was technically playing dirty, but he had to start somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little later than I had intended.  
> Let me know what you all think so far and how you think things are going to go.


End file.
